


The First Five Times

by lit_chick08



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-06
Updated: 2011-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-27 00:13:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lit_chick08/pseuds/lit_chick08
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whenever Damon imagined being with Elena, he always forgot to account for the fact that the universe seems to enjoy torturing him</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Five Times

**Author's Note:**

> All lyrics come from "Anna Begins" by Counting Crows

**The First Time**

 _i am not worried  
I am not overly concerned with the status of my emotions_

The first time it happens, they are lying around the Gilbert living room following her disastrous 18th birthday party. Jeremy has taken Bonnie home with the intention of sleeping over and Alaric is at his new apartment, and all Damon can think is that this was the worst birthday party _ever_.

Elena has already shed her impossibly high heels, her dress now stained from the night's earlier adventures, her hair hanging loosely at the base of her skull. Damon thinks of the box in his coat pocket, the present he has yet to give her, and he imagines what it will look like when it rests against the delicacy of her collarbone.

He is debating crossing to pick up his coat when Elena suddenly shifts her body, resting her head against his chest. Damon freezes; since their deathbed kiss, Elena had made a concerted effort _not_ to touch him, not to cross any lines. In the past, he would have gone out of his way to touch her, to make her uncomfortable, but he cannot help but admit he feels responsible for the overwhelming weight of her grief.

“I’m older than Stefan now,” she breathes against his shirt, rubbing her cheek against the soft cotton, and suddenly Damon understands why she has been so reluctant to discuss her birthday.

“Yes,” he simply confirms, his fingers slip-sliding through the strands of her hair as if he was fingering silk. When she does not protest the touch, he slides his fingers deeper into the tangle, massaging her scalp with the tips of his fingers.

“How old would I be if I was older than you?”

For a minute his hands still, and he resists the urge to end the conversation. He has never really discussed his life as a human with Elena; whereas Stefan would graciously offer up details of his first life, would describe what Mystic Falls was like then and tell stories about the people he had known, Damon has always tried to pretend the human years of his life hadn’t existed. It made it easier to forget all the things that he missed if he could just pretend they had never happened at all.

“Twenty-five,” he finally answers, his hands resuming their petting motion. “I would have been 25 that year.”

“When? When’s _your_ birthday?”

“Not until December.” He gathers all of her hair together as if to tie it up into a ponytail before letting it drop and scatter across her back, his hands hungry for something to do. Damon repeats the motion a few times almost unconsciously before revealing, “We spent it together last year.”

“We did?”

“In Georgia, the day you got buzzed on Cuervo and Lexi’s boyfriend tried to barbecue me.”

Elena lifts her head, her chin propped against his breastbone, and Damon can read the surprise on her face. “Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?”

“I don’t know if you remember this, but I wasn’t exactly your favorite person back then. Besides, birthdays aren’t a big deal once you’ve had 169 of them.”

“But of all the days to go see Bree or to kidnap me across state lines, you picked your birthday.”

Damon meets her gaze, distaste wrinkling his features. “Do not try to psychoanalyze me or sharing time is over.”

Elena rolls her eyes, shimmying her body upwards so that she can deliver a kiss to the corner of his down-turned mouth. Damon feels his heart clench painfully, a pain which only increases when Elena declares, “We’ll do something special for your birthday this year.” She smirks before adding, “But, you know, without all the attempted murder and supernatural hijinks of _my_ birthday.”

He laughs, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “Well, if you want to be _boring_ all of a sudden - “

Her mouth swallows the rest of his words, and Damon doesn't think about anything; all he can do is react. This is not like the kiss four months earlier; he is not incapacitated by poison in his veins, only the nagging sense of guilt kissing Elena while his brother is missing brings. When her tongue slides out to brush across his lower lip, the guilt is silenced, and all Damon can do is respond.

Elena pulls back after a moment, surprise on her face, as if she cannot possibly believe she has done what she did. Damon waits for the accusations to start, for the recriminations and the tears, but instead Elena tentatively brings the pads of her fingers to his lips. He kisses them on instinct, and Elena's eyelids flutter before she whispers, “Will this make me like Katherine?”

Katherine used his heart as a play thing, crushing it in her hands as she swore she was cradling it against her own, and the man he had once been had been obliterated, had transformed him into the vampire he was today.

Damon doesn't know what this will make Elena, but he is certain there will be nothing left of him at all after this.

“Stop being stupid,” he retorts softly, and it is the answer she wants because her hands are slipping up his torso to unbutton his shirt, her lips are on his throat, and her eyes are closed up tight.

He wonders if she is pretending he is his brother, if the taste of his skin brings to memory Stefan's flesh, if the press of his compact body is close enough to Stefan's lean frame to fool her body into believing he is here instead.

She rises to her knees, tossing one leg across his lap, straddling him as she begins to kiss him deeply, her fingers tangling in his hair. Damon's hands fall to her smooth thighs, pushing up the hem of the ruined white dress; he gathers it in his hands and, as he raises it, Elena pulls back long enough for him to pull it straight over her head, tossing it to the floor. He now has a lap full of an underwear-clad Elena Gilbert, an eighteen-year-old orphan in the kind of matching, lacy lingerie he would normally appreciate.

This is the image of his dreams.

This is the image of his nightmares.

She moves to kiss him again, but Damon stops her with fingertips pressed against her breastbone. Elena freezes, confusion on her face, but Damon pays no attention to that. With the index finger of his right hand, he touches the hinge of her jaw and begins to move downward, tracing the arch of her throat, the swoop of her collarbone, the valley between her breasts. Elena shivers as he idly plucks at the front clasp of her bra, and Damon finally flicks his gaze upward.

Her eyes are still closed, her lower lip caught between her teeth, and it suddenly makes him so angry she is using him this way, that she is behaving like her predecessor.

And then her eyes open, her pupils dilated with lust, and she smiles, her entire face lighting up.

This is going to destroy him.

 _Annihilate_ him.

He takes her on the couch anyway.

 **The Second Time**

 _because if you don't want to talk about it then it isn't love  
and I guess I'm gonna have to live with that_

She is at the top of the stairs when Damon hears her drunkenly stumbling towards his room.

He lies face down on his bed, nude and covered only by a sheet, and he feels the familiar anger starting to burn in his stomach, his throat, his heart. She has barely looked at him since her birthday, since he made her come twice on the family couch before losing himself in her, since she politely rose from the couch, said she was going to take a shower, and all but dismissed him, his job done.

She falls into the bed, burrowing her head into the soft, feather pillows; he sighs as he opens his eyes and finds himself staring directly into Elena's bleary, brown eyes.

“Elena, what the hell – “

“He’s not coming back, is he?” she interrupts, her voice thick with unexpected emotion.

Damon is silent for a moment before admitting, “I don’t know. Probably not in your lifetime.”

He isn't surprised by the sight of tears on her cheeks, and he knows she wouldn’t be breaking down like this if she wasn’t so drunk. But it is too late to stop her now, and Elena's entire body starts to shake as she drunkenly weeps into his pillow.

With a sigh, Damon reaches over, drawing her body against his; Damon knows in the morning she will be embarrassed she climbed into his bed drunk, allowing him to spoon her while he is nude, but right now, all she wants is the comfort of his arms around her and he can offer her that.

It is all he can offer her.

She is fast asleep within minutes, and he follows soon afterward, breathing in the scent of her body beneath the alcohol. This may be the closest he ever gets to spending the night with Elena Gilbert, and he intends to take what is offered.

He is having the most wonderfully explicit dream about the woman in his arms when he awakens to find it is no dream at all; sometime since they first fell asleep, Elena has shed her clothing, her hair cascading down her back like a waterfall. Her mouth is sealed over his cock, her hand holding him firmly at the base, her tongue lazily swiping his flesh as her mouth applies a delicious pressure.

Instinctively he clutches at her hair, gasping her name and an impressive streak of obscenities so crude, Elena flicks her gaze upward and Damon actually feels as if he has just been chastened, an impressive feat given she has chosen that moment to take him into her throat.

He comes hard, his vision whiting out as Elena uses one hand on his hip to remind him not to thrust upwards even as she swallows all he has to give. As she pulls off, Damon struggles to regulate his breathing, feeling like a teenager with no control as Elena crawls back up beside him, her inner thighs wet. It takes a moment for him to realize she has gotten herself off while blowing him, and it makes him half-hard just thinking about it.

“What was that?” he asks with a laugh.

Elena shrugs as if it is obvious. “A thank you.”

The laughter dies on his lips.

He can smell himself on her breath as she exhales, settling back into the pillows to return to slumber.

He wants to push her out of the bed, damn her for treating him like nothing more than a warm body, curse her for not realizing he has feelings that can't be toyed with so casually.

But he doesn't because even _this_ is better than nothing.

 **The Third Time**

 _”if it's love,” she said, “then we're gonna have to think about the consequences.”  
but she can't stop shaking and I can't stop touching her..._

He is supposed to meet Ric for a drink at the Grill. When he walks in, he sees that the restaurant is teeming with teenagers, music blasting from the speakers in celebration of the restaurant's grand re-opening, and Damon is wondering how many bourbons are going to be needed to make the hip-hop beat bearable when he spots Elena in the crowd.

She is wearing a skirt so small, it is little more than a belt, and a halter top which reveals so much warm, unblemished skin Damon needs to adjust himself; her make-up is smokier than she usually wears it and her hair is gathered into a ponytail high atop her head, the curled ends of which brush against the center of her shoulders. Damon cannot remember the last time she looked so wholly appealing, sexual, and _human_.

And then he sees she is dancing with Matt, the boy's hands resting clumsily upon her gyrating hips, the flush on his cheeks proving he is enjoying the show as much as Damon is.

Elena turns her body so her back is pressed against Matt's chest, pushing her hips back with a laugh. Damon watches as Matt clutches her hips a little tighter, grinding into her, and he suddenly begins to contemplate just where exactly the best place to dispose of Matt Donovan's body will be. So wrapped up in his homicidal fantasies, it takes him a moment to realize Elena has spotted him and, judging by the way her face has fallen quickly, she can read his murderous rage even from across the room.

She twists her head over her shoulder, tells Matt she is going to the bathroom, and Damon moves through the throng quickly, his meeting with Ric forgotten.

The moment he enters the bathroom, he locks the main door, and Elena, who is standing at the sink, turns, her eyes wide with fear. “Damon, what - “

“Is this how it is?” he growls, advancing on her so speedily, she is pinned between his body and the porcelain of the sink. “Stefan's gone and you've decided to sample everything Mystic Falls has to offer?”

Elena recoils as if struck before spitting back, “Fuck you!”

“I've both been there and done that,” he reminds her cruelly. She tries to push past him, but he doesn't allow it, keeping her boxed in, refusing to let her run again. “What game are you playing?”

“I'm not playing a game!” she exclaims, frustration and distress in her voice. “We were just dancing! And it's none of your business who I do anything with!”

“It is when you're climbing into _my_ bed and sucking _my_ dick!”

Her face crumples instantly, and Damon knows he has gone too far. He steps backwards, unsure what to do or say next, and Elena grabs a handful of paper towels from the dispenser, blotting at her running eye makeup. Her shoulders bounce as she silently cries, and Damon is certain this is the worst thing he has ever witnessed in his life.

“You don't understand,” Elena finally grits out, her face still hidden behind paper towels.

“Understand what?”

She lifts her head, absolute shame painted on her beautiful face. “What it's like to want you after I promised it would always be him.”

“Elena - “

“This isn't who I am, Damon!” she barrels on, tossing the soiled towels into the trash. “I don't want to be this girl! I don't want to betray him!”

“Then why did you start this?!”

“Because the only time I feel good is when I'm with _you_!” Her voice catching, she added, “And no one's ever going to understand that.”

When he steps into her this time, there is no anger. Gently he cups her face, sighing her name, and he can feel her entire body trembling as she whispers, “We can't do this anymore.”

Damon presses a kiss to her forehead before tilting her head up just enough to align his mouth with hers.

“No,” she breathes even as her fingers reach for the buckle of his belt.

He presses her against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist as they move together, their mouths meeting messily. When Elena comes, she buries her face in his shoulder, his name tearing from her lips, equal parts prayer and condemnation.

Afterward, as Elena tries to make herself presentable, their eyes meet in the mirror.

As always, Elena blinks first, drying her hands and leaving him in the women's bathroom alone.

 **The Fourth Time**

 _”These seconds when I'm shaking leave me shuddering for days,” she says  
and i'm not ready for this sort of thing_

One night he comes home from a meeting of the Founders' Council to find Elena asleep in his bed, the blue shirt he wore the first time they slept together the only thing covering her body. The tumble of her hair across the white pillow case tugs at something buried deep within him, something he hadn't even known still existed.

He hasn't seen her in days, too wrapped up in their search for Stefan; his brother's return will spell the end of whatever it is that exists between him and Elena, but Damon also fears it is the only thing which will give Elena peace. The separation, the desperate, fruitless quest for his brother has been enough to distract him from what he wants, what he longs for, what he knows he shouldn't have.

Stefan may crave blood, but Damon's drug of choice has always been Petrova women.

He sheds his clothing easily, sliding onto the bed with the stealth of the predator he is. It takes a little more effort to carefully unbutton the shirt Elena wears ad not disturb her, but he accomplishes his task; it is not until he has pressed his cool palms against her breasts, cupping the flesh which fits so perfectly in his hands, that Elena returns to consciousness.

“Hi,” she breathes softly, shifting her body to better accommodate him.

“This is a surprise,” he says as he carefully slips his hands beneath her body, lifting her just enough to remove the material from her body completely.

A blush fills her cheeks as she whispers, “I missed you.”

“How did you know I'd be back tonight?”

“I didn't. I just wanted to be close to you.”

Damon kisses her fiercely, an emotion he doesn't want to identify thickening in his throat, threatening to spill out and ruin everything. She reminds him of everything he used to be so long ago, the man who had been murdered by his father and killed all over again by Katherine Pierce, the man who had wanted to build a life with the woman he loved and live happily-ever-after.

Vampires who love humans don't get happily-ever-afters, but he's willing to settle for happily-right-now.

As his lips brush the sweet curve of her stomach, Elena sighs his name like a question and he pauses, waits for what comes next.

“Can we...?”

The way she trails off scares him, worries him, cuts him. “Can we what?”

“Slow?” is all she says in response, and Damon feels his heart seize.

She isn't running away; he can take his time, learn her like the back of his hand, find out what she likes. He can know her the way he has always wanted.

No, not that well.

To know her that well, she would have to be his, and, as his lips find the shadowed softness between her thighs, Damon must remind himself she is only his to borrow, never to have.

How nice it would be the have the woman he loves all to himself just once.

 **The Fifth Time**

 _her kindness bangs a gong  
its moving me along_

“Do you ever miss being human?”

Her back is against Damon's chest in his massive bathtub, the water almost scalding hot, Damon’s arms wrapped around her. And even though she can't see his face, he still rolls his eyes.

“Why does it – “

“Do you?”

He swallows hard before answering, “Humanity wasn’t particularly kind to me. Why would I want that again?”

“But you didn’t want to turn,” she points out softly. “You don’t ever wish you’d stayed human, had a real life?”

“I’ve had dozens of real lives; they just weren’t the kind of lives that other people have.” Damon inclines his head, nuzzling at her neck playfully. “Why? Do _you_ wish I was human?”

“Sometimes.”

It is a confession she would never make to Stefan, Damon realized. He had overheard enough of their conversations to know Elena didn't like to remind him of their differences, that they both had actively worked at some sort of communal delusion of normalcy.

Damon’s sensitivities aren’t related to his vampirism; it makes certain admissions easier.

“It would certainly make _your_ life easier.”

Elena shakes her head, tracing Damon’s hand on her stomach. “Not really but that’s not why I’d want it.”

“Why would you?”

“It’d be easier to think about the future if the future wasn’t full of terrible choices that we’ll have to make.”

They are both quiet for a stretch of time, Elena closing her eyes and reveling in the present, before Damon surprises himself by admitting, “There was this land just outside of town that I had wanted to purchase when I was human. I had planned to build a house there and stables so that I could raise horses. I told my father about it and he refused to listen, but I had some money from my mother’s family. I had thought that…I had thought that Katherine was the missing piece, that we’d get married and raise children there.”

It is the single longest statement he has ever made about his life as a human, and he feels painfully exposed; the only other person he has ever shared this particular dream with had been Katherine, who had scoffed at the mere idea of it.

“Would you want that now, if you were human again?”

“Elena,” he begins, warning in his voice.

“I just meant,” she rushes on, quickly trying to soothe any brewing anger, “that if by some miracle you were suddenly human again and I’m alive and human, would that still be what you wanted?”

“It’s a different world now. It’s apples and oranges.”

“So you never think about it, what it could be like?”

Damon sighs, seeing he cannot escape the conversation she was forcing. “I think about a lot of things, Elena. But I’m not Stefan; I don’t have an imaginary life planned for us in my head.”

She sits forward, carefully turning herself in the tub, leaning back against the opposite side so that she can face him. “This isn’t about him.” She hugs her knees tightly to her for a moment before murmuring, “Would you even want a life with me if you were human?”

“The better question is, would _you_ want one with _me_?”

Elena smiles in tired amusement before declaring, “You drive me crazy.”

He gives her the most charming smile he has, wrapping a hand around her ankle and tugging her back to him. “That’s what all the girls say.”

Later, when there is more water on the floor than in the tub, when they are still wrapped around each other so tightly Damon can barely tell where she ends and he begins, Elena sighs against his shoulder, “I would, you know.”

“What?”

“Want a life with you if you were human.”

His heart clutches painfully in his chest at the admission. “Yeah?”

She nods, keeping her face hidden. “Yeah.”

“What do you imagine?”

Elena pulls back enough so that they are face-to-face yet still close enough that, when she speaks, her lips practically brush his own. “When you're sweet, I think about...about my parents and what they had, how I'd like to have that with you. How I wouldn't mind having babies with big, blue eyes and cocky smiles.”

They are the right words at the wrong time, the words he had been desperate to hear 150 years earlier from a woman who hadn't even been able to entertain the notion of a life with him.

“I love you.”

The words fall from his mouth before he can catch them, swallow them back, and bury them deep. He expects her to pull away, to hurry out, but instead she kisses him softly, sweetly.

“I know.” She rests her forehead against his, a small smile on her lips. “I love you too. Sometimes,” she adds with a smirk. “When you're not being an asshole.”

Damon laughs.

He can live with that.


End file.
